


these past few days - a johndave fanfiction

by ectoEgbert



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bleak, Depression, K-Mart Realism, M/M, Realism, Self Harm, dirty realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoEgbert/pseuds/ectoEgbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an open letter to every sunrise.<br/>to every solitary star in the sky.<br/>to all those sleepless nights.</p>
<p>thank you for helping me find my way here.</p>
<p>(it's crazy how one person can spin your life in a circle and put it flat on it's back in a matter of months. i hope you enjoy this fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	these past few days - a johndave fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ectomagician/allen on tumblr (dork)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ectomagician%2Fallen+on+tumblr+%28dork%29).



god, what the fuck was he doing.  
  
    john gingerly placed the last item of the woman's groceries in a bag before placing it in her cart and heaving a heavy sigh. he glanced down at his hands, rubbed raw from the day after day motion of bagging old ladies groceries from hours on end; his days were filled with nothing but pudding cups and elderly women telling him to get a haircut, or that no boy should have painted nails, or he put their groceries in the wrong one, or something equally as disgusting. he gave the lady a half-hearted smile and a wave as she tipped him and left the store. john closed his eyes and turned back to the bag-go-round (as he called it) to begin bagging the next dickhole's groceries.  
    he had worked at this corner market for what seemed like all his life, every day since he had moved to seattle; he'd been so happy to leave his hometown, to leave behind his highschool and all his shitty friends and  **his parents.**  god, he couldn't stand them!! it was always "you're not gay, you're too young to know that you're gay! who told you you were gay? come on, you're just joking! don't fuck around with us, you piece of shit!" he could sometimes still feel the chills from the nights they would call scream slurs at him as he came home from a party. they could see on his face he'd been with a boy, the guilt spilling over his eyelids as he sprinted for his room and locking himself in.   
  
it felt like his prison, up until he decided to leave! with his car packed full of whatever he could find around the house, he left one night without telling anyone in town, to find anywhere that was better than this. he thought someone would maybe come look for him, like maybe someone cared!   
  
but it'd be 4 years now, and still no call, no message, no letter; nothing. he felt truly loved! of course, it could also be that nobody could really  _find_ him!  
  
    he finished bagging the persons groceries, noting the insane amount of soda they were buying, before turning to the cashier on his lane.  
  
    "hey, i'm gonna head home for the night dude!" he began to take off his apron, shaking his hair to clear all the dust he'd gathered from standing in one spot for so long. "see you tomorrow for another day in hell!" he winked at her as she nodded and smiled, her hands trembling as she removed her apron as well. he sighed to himself as he examined her features; she was only 28, but she had the build and personality of a 60 year old; she used to be addicted to heroine and crystal, the volatile combination leaving her mute and brittle. he often wished he could give her all his money just so she could get out of here and make better for herself.  
  
but today wasn't that day, and tomorrow probably wouldn't be either.   
  
    john began walking toward the exit, passing rows of lottery tickets who hadn't been bought in years (yet, for some reason, they kept replacing them), shelves of propane tanks, and dry ice boxes, all seeming to call his name as he made his way into the cool washington air. the cold air rushed up under his oversized t-shirt, chilling him to the bone. they've (y'know, who even are they! we always say "they say we're due some rain" but who really are they! like the weatherman, yeah, but why do we say they! why not the weatherperson, or something! geeze) saying we're in for an extremely cold winter. but it was washington state, literally every day was colder than the last. john looked up into the stars; it was his routine, and it probably kept him sane. every night as he  came out of work, he'd stop in the middle of the parking lot and look up, hoping for something. whether it was a shooting star or something greater, he'd never know.  
  
or maybe it was just because he hoped he'd get hit by a car.  
  
    with all self loathing pushed in the back of his mind for now, he arrived at his car, unlocking his door and tossing the apron in the passenger seat. debating about whether to wash it or not, he turned the key and let it slowly turn over. he drove a 1994 nissan maxima, and every day it put up a fight. every single time he turned the vehicle off, he wondered if it had the life left to even give a dying cough, let alone start again! he giggled at his own joke as he started driving home, looking longingly at his radio that hadn't worked in years. ever since then, he drove the 20 minutes to work and 20 minutes home with his own thoughts; and they absolutely terrified him.  
  
and as he drove home, he thought of what vriska would do with all the money he'd give her if he had it, and how she'd probably just spend it on drugs again.

* * *

    john pulled into his driveway outside of the rundown, leaky, moldy, and probably haunted (which made him super excited) apartment that he called home for right now. he'd been hopping from place to place for way too long now; whether it be eviction or the building being condemned, he couldn't hold down a place for longer. despite all this, he smiled as he made his way up the rickety metal stairs to his section of the complex, opening the door and heaving a sigh of relief;  
  
even if it was rundown, it was still a home.  
  
his tiny studio apartment consisted of the bare necessities and some things he was able to bring with him from his "epic getaway" from his hometown; there was a small kitchen in the back right corner of the room, old pots, pans, dirty plates and utensils scattered around the once tidy cooking area. he'd long since abandoned cooking meals; nights of lying in bed, too depressed to move, had destroyed his hopes of that. now it seemed all he ate was canned soup and ice cream drumsticks; it seemed to be keeping him alive! next to this was a door leading to a small bathroom, with just enough room to fit a toilet, a shower, a sink, and a hamper. every week or two, he would make a journey to a small laundromat just down the street. the lady behind the desk never spoke, but she always made him feel safe. in a small nook in the back of the room which was probably the nicest thing in his apartment; he thought about how it probably hasn't been made in months. finally, on the wall next adjacent to that was his most cherished possession; his record player. through all these years, through all these moves, the people who'd came and gone, he still had this thing, and it was his escape. all of this was topped off by cracked wood floors and peeling floral wallpaper. he let a smile creep onto his face as he looked around.  
  
it was a home, and he was safe for right now.  
  
    he took his shoes off with his feet, kicking them to the corner as he trudged to his bed, shedding clothes like worries as he made his way slowly to his bed. all the days stresses, every single worry and fear, and all the aches and pains were seemingly shed as he bent down to put on a record. he placed the stylus gently on the record and the sound of _waste yrself_ by _teen suicide_ filled the room. he gently lay in bed as he let the record play, the gentle notes filling his ears and traveling through his body in waves. with every note and bar, he seemed to fall further and further into sleep, like the song was somehow urging him into peace. it was here he dreamed, about one day being living in an apartment downtown, about one day having a boyfriend who could put up with him, about late night grocery store trips that didn't involve him working, and about everything that he held regret for. it was here he had hope, and that seemed to be all that kept him living right now.  
  
he slipped into sleep and hoped for a better tomorrow, because that was all he knew how to do anymore.  
   
    

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!! thank you so so much for reading my fic!! any comments are greatly appreciated, i can always use constructive criticism!! there's lots more of this to come, and i'll be updating it on my tumblr, which you can find at http://staarrycat.tumblr.com
> 
> thanks again, and stay lovely and safe!


End file.
